


Desperado

by goddessofcruelty



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Western, Angst, Gun Kink, Gunslinger Chris Argent, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pining, Rough Sex, Sheriff Peter Hale, The Hale Fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 09:50:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2424281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessofcruelty/pseuds/goddessofcruelty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Those blue eyes pierced Peter, as he looked down on the Sheriff from atop his horse, arms crossed casually over the saddlehorn as if he's just a casual passerby. Except everything about him screams threat to the Sheriff. It's not just the fact that Peter can sight at least five weapons, and he's sure there's more, or the way the man is dressed head to toe in solid black, no it's the way he looks at Peter. Like he's a wolf, and the Sheriff is a rabbit he intends to eat.</p><p>Peter takes an instant dislike to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperado

Peter Hale loved being Sheriff of Beacon Hills. There's little to no crime in the tiny Western town, and it afforded him a certain degree of respect. Add his sister being the Mayor, and his family having built the town in the first place, and he was welcome anywhere, the town most eligible bachelor.

Yessir, being Sheriff was a great job – right until the gunslinger came into town.

Those blue eyes pierced Peter, as he looked down on the Sheriff from atop his horse, arms crossed casually over the saddlehorn as if he's just a casual passerby. Except everything about him screams _threat_ to the Sheriff. It's not just the fact that Peter can sight at least five weapons, and he's sure there's more, or the way the man is dressed head to toe in solid black, no it's the _way_ he looks at Peter. Like he's a wolf, and the Sheriff is a rabbit he intends to eat.

Peter takes an instant dislike to him.

“What business you got here in town, stranger?” he demands hand resting on his gunbelt.

“Argent,” the man says, “and my business is my own, Sheriff.”

“You keep your nose clean or it'll become my business real fast.”

“Yes, sir, _Sheriff_.” The words sound polite, but Peter can tell by the twinkle in those blue eyes that Argent is laughing at him as he tugs on the reins and takes his horse off to the boarding house.

-

“We gotta stop meeting this way,” comes a low voice practically in his ear, and Peter twitches, turns quick with his hand on his gun, but Argent slides onto the stool next to him, orders a drink from Melissa, who flashes him that gorgeous grin. Argent reciprocates, and Peter's struck by the brilliance of that smile. Which only makes him more glum, so he downs his drink and slams the cup down on the counter, and pushes off his seat.

“Leavin' so soon, Sheriff?” Melissa turns to him.

“Suddenly I ain't so thirsty,” Peter nod and tips his hat to her, and then walks out before he does something real stupid, like punch Argent in the face...or kiss him.

Setting his jaw, Sheriff Hale pretends he never thought that and stomps his way back to his office where he can drink alone in peace.

-

“Uncle – Sheriff – Peter, that Argent done shot a man in the saloon!”

Peter runs his hand over his face and sighs. _So much for drinking in peace._

“Yeah, alright, Derek. Run off home kid and tell your ma.”

He dons his belt and hat, wondering if he's heading to his death. Peter knows he can't outdraw Argent.

Fortunately, he doesn't have to. All the witnesses say that Ennis was pushing Argent, talking big about how he could take the gunman any day.

Peter nods, but gives Argent a stern lecture, tells him he'd better watch out 'cause Ennis' clan is gonna be out for blood, and _strongly_ suggests he might want to get out of town.

Not surprisingly, Argent don't seem too worried, and decides to stay on.

“I like the scenery hereabouts,” he says, looking right at Peter, and the Sheriff has to turn away before he makes it into somethin' it ain't.

“You give me any more trouble, I'll shoot ya myself,” he growls without looking back and heads off to apprise his sister of the situation.

-

“Word is he lost his whole family in a feud while back, and been huntin' down them what done it ev'r since.”

“Thank you, Natalie,” Talia smiled, still holding onto the crisp, clean accent of back East where she'd been sent to finishing school. “Please put that bolt of yellow fabric on my tab and then make your Lydia a dress, it would look lovely on her.”

“Yes'm, thank ya.”

Peter snorts.

“Bribes?”

“ _Gifts_ go a long way, baby brother.” She narrows her eyes at him. “Melissa tells me there's other word of him, word from her painted ladies.”

Peter waits.

“Word that says he asked one of 'em if they got boys too.”

Peter digs his nails into his palms, but manages not to show anything, keep his voice steady. “Figured that myself.”

Talia looks at him intently. “Find out why he's here, whatever it takes.”

Peter sets his jaw as his sister sweeps from the room.

-

Turns out, Peter doesn't have to go looking for Argent, the man is sitting at his desk with his boots right up on Peter's desk, and he's drinking the Sheriff's whiskey.

“Well, that is like to get a man shot.” Peter says as he leans against the doorway.

Argent sets a large jar of gun oil significantly in the center of Peter's desk. “Keep an awful big jar of oil for someone who don't oil his own guns, Sheriff Hale.”

A chill runs down Peter's spine but he don't show it, just curves one brow skyward. “What're you tryin' to say there, Argent?”

The gunslinger tucks his hands behind his head, and Peter tries not to let his eyes trail over the muscle stretching the fabric of the shirt. “I been askin' around about you, Sheriff. There's some of the men in town that fancy a boy from time to time, I hear you're the one they come to.”

Peter narrows his eyes. “Get your ass out of my office before I shoot you.”

Argent shrugs, pulls his feet off the desk, rises and stalks towards Peter, and the Sheriff is not happy to see that up close he's gotta look up a couple inches.

Argent gets up in his space, and Peter's got his gun up against the man's chin, but Argent's got his hands on Peter's belt, and he's unbuckling it swiftly, nimble fingers sliding inside and curling around Peter's thickening cock before the Sheriff has time to process.

Argent looks down into Peter's eyes, something of a challenge there, and then he pulls his head back, turns to the side and puts his mouth around the barrel of Peter's gun while his hand continues to pump along the younger man's length.

Peter doesn't do anything to stop him, just watches that mouth fuck itself on his gun until he feels the warmth spreading across his gut, and only then is he forced to close his eyes, to lean his head back against the wooden wall.

Argent brings him off in a few more strokes, then takes his mouth from the gun, presses his lips against Peter's hungrily, and the Sheriff tastes gunpowder and whiskey as the gunslinger's tongue wraps around his own.

Argent pulls back, and Peter's eyes are heavy lidded as he watches the older man licks his fingers clean, and then flash a smug grin.

Peter shakily lifts his weapon and fires a warning shot that just grazes Argent's right shoulder. He hears the man laughing as he ducks out of the office, as the Sheriff puts himself back together, and then slumps to the floor.

-

Argent leaves town sometime that night, Melissa sends Derek to tell him the man's room is cleaned out. Peter's relieved. He can see how he could lose himself in that man, would throw everything away for that feeling. And Peter has no intention of living life on the road. He likes Beacon Hills.

He keeps reminding himself of that as things returns to normal, because everything seems dimmer now, lackluster, and he spends more time in the bottle than he had done before.

-

Peter's out helping round up some cattle that got loose the next time he sees Argent. He's managed to lasso three of them, got them waiting docile by his horse, but the fourth is giving him some trouble. Right up until another rope lands right on target. Peter turns to thank the fella, but the words die on his lips. Instead a flat “Argent” comes out.

The damned man just flashes him a grin and takes the cow over to the others before he comes up to Peter.

“Aren't you going to thank me for my help, Sheriff?”

“Thanks,” Peter grinds out grudgingly, but that only makes Argent laugh.

“That ain't what I meant and you know it.” He reaches out and curls a finger in Peter's gunbelt, tugs him closer. “I want a real proper thanking, _Peter_.”

The younger man can't hide the tremor that runs through him at the way Argent says his name, but he ain't that easy, and he reaches down to remove the gunslinger's hands from his person.

Only he ends up twisted around with that arm pinned behind his back, , and then Argent kicks the back of his knees, and in three heartbeats, Peter's pinned to the ground beneath the older man.

“Minute I saw you, I knew you was gonna be mine,” Argent growls, “Ain't no hiding you want me too, so stop fighting like some sort of storybook heroine that's gotta protect her honor.”

“Argent, _please_ ,” Peter gasps out, and the older man growls, but pushes off him and starts to pace.

“Chris,” he says in a mutter, “Name's Chris.”

“Chris,” Peter repeats, then lifts his eyes to the taller man. “Them other men, they ain't _nothing_ , they got wives and families, and it means nothing.”

Chris halts his pacing, turns and looks at Peter, kneels down to where Peter's righted himself, leaning against a fence post. “What are you saying, Peter?”

“I'm saying that I can't do a one off thing with you. Once I got it, I ain't gonna wanna let it go, and I just can't do it, Chris. I can't leave here, leave what I got.”

“Peter, I ain't asking you to.”

“I'm saying I would follow you, I'd have to.”

Chris tilts his head a bit. “I could stay...?”

Peter snorts. “No you can't. You ain't that type.” He looks up through his lashes at Chris. “And I couldn't hide it for long.”

“So that's it then? There's nothing for us?”

Peter shrugs and rises, walks to his horse. “Guess not.”

Chris spins his suddenly, pulls the younger man to him for one last breathless kiss, then vaults into his own saddle. Peter watches him ride away until he can't see the dark speck on the horizon anymore, then he heads back to Beacon Hills.

-

“I”m here to see Peter Hale.”

“Family only.”

“I'm his brother.”

“His entire family died in the fire, sir.” The nurse fixes him with a glare, but Chris flashes her a smile.

“Wrong side of the sheets,” he confesses, and the woman sniffs, her tone clearly saying _Oh one of them_ , but Chris don't care because it gets him into see Peter.

“I don't want visitors,” comes the growl from the darkness of the room, a voice that sounds the same as he recalls from three years ago, if somewhat gruffer.

“Good thing I ain't visiting, then,” Chris shoots back, “We're busting you out of this joint.”

“Chris,” Peter breathes, “No, you can't be here, you can't see me like this.”

“What? Cause of some scars? I got more scars than you any day.” He comes right up to Peter, leans in next to his ear. “If you're lucky I'll let you see the one on my ass sometime.”

Peter snorts in spite of himself, watches Chris with those brilliant blue eyes as the older man touches all of Peter's scars gently. “I still want you,” he says baldly, and Peter rolls his eyes. “You ready to come with me now?”

Peter looks around at the pure white of the hospital room, at the mottled skin of his burns, and then at the man before him.

“Well,” he drawls slowly, “I guess I ain't got nothing better to do.”

“Can you walk?” Chris flashes a grin. “We're gonna duck out the back while them nurses ain't looking.”

“Yeah,” Peter says, pushing himself out of bed. “Legs're fine. Won't never shoot with my right hand again though.”

Chris curves his arm around Peter's waist, smirks down at the former Sheriff. “You can use my right hand any time you want.”

“You ain't never give up do ya?”

“On you? Nope.” Chris pokes his head out the doorway, and then escorts Peter out the back door, where he's got a couple of horses tied up, with bulging saddlebags, and a pack mule, fully loaded.

“Where we bound?” Peter asks as Chris helps him u on the horse, winds the reins around his left hand.

“Round about Mexico way,” Chris grunt as he settles into his saddle. “Spent some time on this little beach there, been thinking 'bout showing it to ya for a while.”

Peter nods and clucks his tongue, moves his horse into step beside Chris'.

“Chris.”

The gunslinger turns to face the other man, and Peter lifts up a smile. “Thank you.”

“For you, Sheriff, anything.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if I need to tag anything.
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr](goddessofcruelty.tumblr.com)


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